


Four Go Mad...

by orphan_account



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: AU, M/M, McDean, jpc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when we're there, I love you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Go Mad...

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2008 - summer, I think - for those who were shipping Steph/Niall before it all went tits-up later on.
> 
> There was a request for a McQueen/Dean holiday.

 

 

 

 

FOUR GO MAD...

 

 

“Craig!”

 He groaned, grabbed John Paul's pillow and covered his head, wrapping the ends to take in his poor ringing ears. He loved John Paul, but he couldn't half bellow!

The sheet was pulled unceremoniously from the bed, leaving him completely exposed. He felt John Paul hesitate for a moment, then the bed dipped as his lover sat beside him. “Get the fuck up!” The words were said in his ear, but the nuzzle and the low tone in which they were delivered somewhat confused the meaning. Smiling to himself he rolled on to his back. “I'm tired,” he whined, regarding John Paul from behind his lashes. Yep that's what he thought – John Paul was no longer looking at his...face. Thank god for morning hard ons. He'd often regarded them as a real pain – in the past. Ever since he and John Paul had got together they were seen as a boon, regularly getting him both in and _out_ of trouble. He stretched luxuriously. “Nother half hour,” he offered, invitation in his eyes.

John Paul's hand was on his lower belly, fingers stroking the fine hairs there. “Half an hour?”

“Hmm, hmmm.” He put both hands behind his head, smug in the knowledge that John Paul had proved himself to be very easily deflected given the right distraction. Would a subtle...twitch... be too much?

“Mmmm, half an hour?”

“3o minutes.”

“Mmmmm.” John Paul had a hand wrapped round his cock. “And then you'll get up?”

“I'll get up,” he confirmed.

“Hmmm.” He brushed a thumb around the head. “And you haven't got a hangover.”

“Well me head's banging a little bit but nothing a blowie wouldn't sort out.” He grinned when John Paul met his eye. “Blow the cobwebs right out.”

“Yeah?” The hand had started a subtle stroking.

“Mmmm, yeah.”

“Well.” John Paul bent his head, kissed the tip of Craig's cock. “You should have thought about that,” He twisted his hand. “Before drinking so much last night. Now.” He let him go, got up. “Get. The. Fuck. Up!”

 

 

 

**

 

 

John Paul came in while he was getting ready to shave. He glared at him. “You're a bastard, do you know that?”

John Paul came up behind him, put both arms around his waist, kissed his neck. “You know I love you.”

“Still a bastard.”

“I'll make it up to you, promise.” His right hand was delving under the towel.

“Forget it.” Craig pushed him away with a not so subtle twitch of his hips.

John Paul laughed, blew a raspberry on his neck. “God you can sulk for England.” Releasing him, he leaned against the wall watching him lather up. “You shaving?”

“No I'm baking a fucking cake.”

John Paul said nothing, eyes following the movement of Craig's hands as he set out the instruments of his task.

Craig ignored him for as long as he could.

He always lost this game: John Paul could do this all day long – _he_ inevitably caved long before John Paul 'even got started yet mate'. “What?”

“What?” Yeah and he could do the innocent eyes real good too.

“Thought you were supposed to be getting ready, so 'Niall wouldn't throw a fit'.” He knew John Paul hated when he mimicked his accent. Well good he hated when John Paul mimicked his too. And he had to put up with that far more often than John Paul did.

“Well I'm practically there, mate.” He flicked the end of the towel round Craig's waist. “Unlike some.”

“I was asleep, practically sleepwalked my way in here. You want me to try shaving when I'm half asleep?”

“Well it's not like you're shaving with a cut throat fucking razor, Craig. I know electricity can be dangerous, but I somehow don't think it applies to razors.”

“Fuck off.”

“Besides you know I like it when you leave it for a while.”

“It itches like a motherfucker!”

“Well yeah, but I like it.”

Craig glanced at him. He had that look in his eye again. Damn him. “Look if I'm scratching this all fucking day long and Nial offers to hold me down and take the bum fluff off again you get nowt for a whole fucking week, are we clear?”

“We're clear.” Having secured victory he felt free to be generous. “Let me wash that off for you.”

“I am quite capable of washing my own fucking face.”

“I know.” He kissed him just under the left eye, then took the lobe of his left ear between his teeth. “Let me.”

Craig rolled his eyes and let him.

 

 

**

 

“What is it with you and not shaving?” Niall was leaning out the window of the big 4x4 watching them struggle with the cases.

Craig shot John Paul a look. “Don't worry about it.”

Niall smirked, shared a look with his passenger. “Oh I'm not worried mate. John Paul.”

“I know, I know. Come on Craig!”

“What, me? _I'm_ the one who made us late?”

John Paul signalled urgently with his eyes – a kind of 'shut up or you really will get nothing at all for the whole week!'. Craig shut up. When John Paul wanted to go on strike he didn't mess; definitely paid to take notice when he gave those signals.

“Hi Steph.”

“Hi john Paul. I love that shirt.”

“Oh thanks. You look good too. Melissa get off to your mum's okay?”

“Yeah, she couldn't wait to get away, could she, Niall? I think she'd rather live with Mum and Jack.”

Well yeah of curse she would – spoiled rotten. But she was an okay kid for all his mum did her level best to spoil her. “Jack says they're thinking of setting up there permanently.” He slid with some relief into the back of th luxuriously appointed car. He and Niall shared a love of cars; but while he liked the smaller sporty type, Niall preferred big and luxurious. He had a string of salons across the country and seemed to have space as a default setting wen it came to transport, clearly so used to having to ferry supplies around that he automatically thought big when it came time to choose a new car.

“They both love it out there so I can see why they would.” She leaned in to kiss him. “Ugh stubble.” She gave him a playful slap on the cheek. “Shaving's good, Craig, really good.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered under his breath.

John Paul ignored him. He knew john Paul had deliberately ignore this because, well because he knew john Paul. 10 years cheek by jowl with the man and yeah he was gonna know him – inside and out.

Craig felt something inside breathe a contended sigh as John Paul settled beside him. His body automatically made room for him, relaxed for him, tried to get closer to him. Ten years and he still got butterflies in his stomach when he saw him, heard his voice on the phone. “How long are you saying, Niall?” John Paul had a hand on his thigh, an absolutely automatic action; he probably hadn't even thought about what he was doing.

“Depending on traffic about 3.”

“You alright driving all the way?

“No problem, but one of you drive back, yeah?”

He rolled his eyes as he took in John Paul's significant look in his direction, but said nothing.

Leaning his head on John Paul's shoulder Craig closed his eyes, prepared to sleep all the way if possible. God he smelled good. He snuggled in as close as he could without actually burrowing under his lover's skin. John Paul's arm pulled him in even closer.

“Remember that blowie?” John Paul's voice in his ear sent a shiver through him – all the way through him.

“Hmm?”

“How about it?” His tongue was making slow circles inside the shell of Craig's ear.

“My sister's in the car!” he protested in an outraged whisper. His cock, however, was far from outraged, was in fact jumping up and down, cheering.

“So's my brother. Your point?”

“My point-” Er what was his point? “My point. Stop that.” He looked at the front passengers who seemed deep in conversation, taking no notice of the at all. “What's got into you?”

“You.”

This made him melt of course. Damn him – he knew just how to get to his weak spots which were many and varied when it came to John Paul McQueen. He had never, not ever been able to say no to him when it came to sex. Not in the mood? John Paul got him in the mood. Too tired? Not after John Paul started in on him. “We can't.”

“You don't have to do anything. You just lay back and enjoy it.”

“JP, damn it, no!” He wasn't even going to be able to get – well okay _sustain_ a hard on - with his sister in the car for god's sake! “No!”

Steph turned to look at them, then smirked and looked at Niall. “Everything alright guys?”

“Everything's just peachy Steph, don't worry about it.” He was blushing for god's sake. He never blushed, well okay not generally, only when he was with bloody John Paul. “Just don't, okay?” He wondered if his voice sounded as unconvincing to John Paul as it did to him.

“Hand job?” He was kissing behind his ear now, tiny, tiny, dry kisses that both tickled and made him weak with desire.

“No, I just- John Paul...” He'd given in: he knew it, John Paul knew it. It had, after all, only been a matter of time.

John Paul, fully aware of his victory put a seal on it with a kiss that Craig felt to his toes. He groaned, no longer caring who was in the car with them. The pope? Fuck him! The queen? Fuck her too. “Can't wait to get you in bed,” whispered against his mouth. “Get my mouth around you, feel you against my tongue...”

Fucking bastard! He wrapped both arms around John Paul's neck and pulled him into a kiss - deep, dirty, demanding with his tongue that he make good on his promises...

There was a burst of sound which made him open his eyes. The Cd player was on – dance music – at a volume that they could probably hear all the way back in Manchester. Nial and Steph were laughing quietly – a private joke, obviously, with _them_ as the punchline.

Great, just fucking great.

Now the entire holiday was ruined.

How could he enjoy himself if he couldn't look 2 quarters of the party in he eye.

Bloody John Paul..

 

**

 

Okay he'd been embarrassed for about 5 seconds when on arrival Steph and Niall had immediately decided to go sightseeing, assuring them they wouldn't be back until the afternoon – late afternoon, very late afternoon. But his cock had been hard for about 3 hours solid and John Paul had got him so bloody worked up with word, touch and kiss that he wouldn't have cared if they were in the same bloody room as them at this point. He went into the bedroom and stripped. John Paul followed soon after, stripped too before pulling him on to the bed.

“I have been wanting this,” He had a possessive fist around Craig's hard cock. “since last night, you annoying sod. If you hadn't got so bloody rat arsed I wouldn't be in this state now.”

“So you being a randy sod is my fault?” John Paul had pulled him on top, encouraging him to straddle his lap. His tongue was making urgent circles on Craig's lower belly, fine hair tickling the sensitive skin of his chest. He chose not to answer this useless question.

Craig closed his eyes and concentrated on just enjoying the sensation.

Sex with John Paul – his most favourite thing in the entire fucking world. From the first time they'd 'done it' he'd been in a daze, totally, utterly captivated by this thing that most people called fucking or making love. Well he'd fucked and he'd thought he'd made love too, but when he slept with John Paul that first time he'd understood that this was something else _entirely._ And it had never changed; since splitting with Sarah he hadn't slept with anyone but John Paul. When he'd gone to Dublin alone, heart completely shattered, it hadn't even occurred to him to try with anyone else – how could he: he was still stuck on John Paul. There'd been opportunities, of course there had, but how did you give anything to anyone when your heart, your body, your soul belonged to someone else? How did you pretend that those lips, those hands, that face could compare with the thing you'd lost but refused to let go? He hadn't even wanted to be with anyone else, most of his alone time spent lost in memories and bitter regret. He'd driven himself half crazy replaying the history of their relationship.

How had he not known? How had it taken him so long to figure it all out – not just John Paul's feelings for him, but his feelings for John Paul? And why had he had this crazy need to prove to himself that he was still normal; that the thing with John Paul was a phase, something he had to keep under wraps until it went away as it inevitably would. Why come out when it was something that need never be exposed since it wasn't going to last; when he'd got John Paul out of his system he'd be able to resume the normal state of affairs, with Sarah, with no-one being any the wiser. And he'd tried to tell himself that this was how it was – that the thing with John Paul was just a fever intense and significant – while it was happening - but in he end not something either unique, long lasting or life changing. The fact that he couldn't bloody stay away from him, that missing him was a constant ache – when he was with Sarah, his family even in public with all of them together – that he could not massage away with platitudes and stern words still hadn't been enough to make him admit it to himself.

 

It took the bone deep grief of losing him to make him face up to himself, truly come to terms with himself, John Paul, his love for and potential future with this man who was in his blood, under his skin. And it hadn't been easy – he'd had to work hard to make peace with the fact that he just couldn't think of himself as 'gay'. Gay had certain connotations for him that just didn't fit his own self-image and he just wouldn't allow that label to be hung around his neck. But the fact was that though he still looked at girls he looked at boys too. How could he not? He now saw other men in a different way than he had before. Still didn't want to sleep with any of them, but he saw now why other blokes might. He knew what a cock felt like inside him, what it tasted like; how it felt to have the silky hair of another's man's groin against him, the sounds he made when he was being fucked. No he could no longer pretend that he couldn't see the appeal. So maybe he wasn't as straight as he'd claimed when he'd had nothing against which to measure his ultimate 'straightness'. No, he would always see men differently now and that realisation alone ensured that he couldn't be as straight as other straight men who hadn't regularly had sex – mind blowing sex - with another guy. He went through a period – short-lived thank god – when he'd automatically look at another bloke's crotch and arse, much the same way he used to look at a woman's tits and arse. And yeah okay if they were a certain type there was a little bit of ..something...not interest exactly, but certainly not indifference. But the fact remained that he was completely stuck on John Paul – _that_ made all the difference in the world since there was no man – or woman – who compared and all the looking in the world meant absolutely fucking nothing since he just wasn't available.

 

He'd known that he was in trouble when this thought, this 'never going to be available for the rest of my fucking life' conclusion had made him feel warm inside rather than scared to fucking death....

“You know what I want.”

John Paul had that look in his eye again. Craig smiled , kissed the beloved mouth. He hadn't _really_ got the appeal, why John Paul loved it so much until he'd got really turned on one night and had actually wanted it, begged for it. He still couldn't quite define why it was such a turn on – he'd have expected the opposite if anyone had asked him – great for the doer, not so great for the receiver...

He positioned himself, groaned when John Paul put both hands on his arse, deliberately held his gaze as he pulled him in. “Hold on.” He put a couple of pillows under John Paul' head. “Okay.”

They both laughed. “You sure now? Don't want to sing me a bed time lullaby as well?”

“Shut up and just... do your stuff.” He loved watching him do this and was, of course, in the perfect position to watch him do his stuff.

John Paul didn't mind being called a brilliant cocksucker since that was a pretty accurate description. Craig experience hadn't been _extensive_ , but he knew that John Paul really was a cut above when it came to this. He loved Craig's cock, always had, knew every single nerve, every single vein, always gave it his full attention. Craig had sulkily asked him once whether he loved his cock more than he loved him. John Paul had hesitated then said it was a toss up but yeah he had to admit he did love Craig's cock just a little more than Craig himself.

Craig had fucked him into the mattress that night then again the following morning.

John Paul knew exactly how to work him up, slow licks up and down the shaft, carefully avoiding all the nerves at the head, teasing him by getting real close, then withdrawing, turning his attention to his balls, the underside of his cock. Craig knew better than to try to tel him what to do, to get him where he wanted him; he'd learned that this strategy was akin to something of a sexual death wish with John Paul just absolutely committed to driving him out of his mind with frustration if he heard so much as a peep out of him so now he just shut up and let him do his thing.

“Mmm, I like that.” That was allowed – if you told him you liked it he'd do it some more, you just couldn't tell him to 'nibble here' or 'lick my balls' and certainly not 'oh will you just bloody suck you wanker!'.

Eye contact was a big part of it – the reason it was such a turn on – for both of them. When he'd done it the first time – asked John Paul to fuck his mouth he hadn't been too much bother about eye contact – he'd just wanted to swallow his cock soon as possible. He'd been pretty fucking wild that night. Later he'd taken his time a bit more, learned to do the eye contact thing. Eye contact...

He remembered when they'd first done that; how it had felt when John Paul had slid into him and just stayed there, staring into his eyes. It had been like being kissed all over, _worshipped_. He'd bitten his lip, closed his eyes for a second in a bid to deal with the intensity. When he'd opened them John Paul was still staring at him and yeah the intensity was still there but he'd coped.

That had been the day he'd first told John Paul he loved him. He'd said it a few times that day, as he recalled. It had felt like a breakthrough – first time he'd ever said it to anyone – and meant it, really meant, something inside sighing and saying 'yes'. He should have known then that this was for keeps.

Well he'd known, just been too chicken to accept it.

John Paul told him he loved him a lot – not with words, necessarily, but like this with his stare, his focused contemplation. He made Craig feel like a god and if that wasn't an 'I love you' well he didn't honestly know what was.

He smiled, put a finger at the corner of John Paul's mouth, laughed when it was bitten. “Love you.”

John Paul took him into his mouth.

 

 

**

 

“Oh what is wrong with you?” John Paul pulled him back. “I think we can safely say that your sister knows you have sex with me on a regular basis, Craig.”

Well he knew that, that wasn't the point. “That's not the point. Let me up.”

“You're tired, come back to bed – get some sleep then we'll go out later. You know how cranky you get when you're tired.”

“Oh could you make me sound any more like a 3 year old?” He was caught in indecision, not sure whether or not to get up, get dressed and start acting like they were on holiday (and not in their own bloody bedroom) or get the sleep he knew he really did need.

“No you're doing a pretty good job all by yourself.” John Paul was stroking his sweaty hair away from his neck. How come he was the one who'd been sweating most when John Paul had been the one doing the fucking? Oh yeah he'd been on top, the one actually doing all the damn work. Well he couldn't exactly complain since this was just about his favourite position; something irresistible about the fact that he could wrap himself around him, kiss him while they were fucking. It was very intimate and he knew John Paul loved it as much as he did.

“Well I don't want them to think that's all we spend our time doing.”

“Well stop looking like it is then.”

“What? Me? I'm not the one who wanted to do me in the shower or the car and couldn't wait to get in the cottage before putting his hands down my keks.”

John Paul was kissing his neck. “Nice keks by the way. Love them on you.”

“Don't change the sub-”

“Craig? You decent?”

“Just a minute, Steph. Oh bloody hell!” He got under the covers, ignoring John Paul's laughter. “Yeah what is it?”

“We just wondered if you wanted anything to eat – we stocked up. Got some lovely ice cream.”

“Oooh interesting.” John Paul was stroking his damp belly.

“Can't you ever think about anything else? Sounds great, Steph. Out in a minute. Give us a minute.”

“Okay. It's lovely out there, Craig, don't miss out.” They heard the sound of her retreating footsteps.

He glared at John Paul. “Now look, now she thinks we intend to spend the whole bloody holiday fucking – 'don't miss out Craig – by sucking John Paul's cock all day'. What? It is not funny. I've been branded a sex addict – by my own sister.”

 

He watched unamused as John Paul threw back his head and howled with laughter

 

**

 

 

Steph had insisted on going to some damn theatre. He really should have got that sleep as John Paul had suggested. Bloody tosser looked bright as a button, laughing and joking with the others, just about NOT holding his hand as they walked side by side. He'd been startled at first when, after they'd got back together; they'd be walking and John Paul would suddenly grab hold of his hand. It had initially made him very uncomfortable then he'd got used to it and now he'd sometimes do it first.

He could have done with more than a hand right now: John Paul carrying him would do very nicely, thank you.

The meal they'd had at the cottage probably hadn't really helped with the sleepiness. Somehow Steph had developed into a decent cook (though you wouldn't think it to look at Niall) and the meal had been delicious, but it had made him feel like lying down right there at the table. When he got like this the only remedy really was a few hours kip – soon as they returned he'd get this head down for a while otherwise he'd be cranky as shit.

The place was beautiful though, seriously stunning. He'd been wanting to visit Cornwall for years and when Steph had broached the idea of a joint holiday he'd suggested a weekend in Cornwall. They'd decided on a week, all of them agreed that they all needed the break. They'd save on airfare and with the cottage being self-catering a lot of other expenses too. Not that any of them were hurting for money, but old habits died hard.

 

They'd left the arrangements to the others and well he really hadn't believed it could be possible for his sister to actually somehow manage to sneak a theatre visit onto the itinerary.

 

He'd been quite sour initially, still a little embarrassed about the sex thing, but as they'd walked, laughing and joking – well mostly the others, John Paul sticking close but conversing with the other two – his mood had lifted. How could it not when in the face of this sort of landscape? He really wouldn't mind living down here. He'd have a word with John Paul later. Expensive, yeah and he was still too tied to work, but in a few years time when he'd got the business the way he wanted...

 

“Alright?” John Paul was looking at him, fingers featherlight on his.

 

He curled his little finger round John Paul's. “Brilliant.”

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Tired?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Love me?”

“Always.”

They let the others walk a little ahead. He didn't particularly like kissing in public but this felt so natural: like kissing your beloved under the hot sun, in sight of the blue, blue sea was something you were meant to do – for the rest of your life. “John Paul.”

“Yeah.”

“How would you feel about a move?”

“So long as it's with you.”

“As if.” He kissed him on the chin. “It's lovely here, makes me feel I dunno like I'm home, like it's been waiting for me.” With anyone else he would have qualified this, said something like I know I'm being daft, but didn't need to with John Paul, John Paul never made him feel daft or small or stupid.

He read Craig like a book and sensed his mood now.

He slung an arm around him, kissed him on the temple. “Well looks like Cornwall will have to get used to being overrun by McQueens in future doesn't it? I swear my sisters-”

“Nephews and nieces.”

“Nephews and nieces could actually be responsible for Cornwall making headline news.”

“Yeah?” He picked a flower – a blue one, no idea what – and handed it to him.

“For placing a ban on all visitors who are domiciled north of the Watford Gap.”

Craig snorted, but couldn't actually argue with that. “Er couldn't we pretend we still live in Worcester?“Yeah right, Sherlock.”

“Okay, okay, but we go up there, okay – they only come down once a year.”

“Yeah okay.”

They looked at each other. “Maybe if we rented a cottage, pretended that's where we lived.”

“You know, that could actually work.”

 

 

**

 

Steph's theatre thing had actually been spectacular - a cliffside theatre that just had to be seen to be believed. Okay he'd slept through some of the performance but that was because he was knackered – no reflection at all on the performers – or the performance. And the people they'd met were incredibly friendly and easy going – funny accents that had taken a while to get used to but really nice, down to earth folk.

 

Yeah he could definitely take this slower pace.

 

While they were here no reason for them not to look around estate agents for likely properties...

 

 

**

 

He'd expected all of them to spend most of the time together but Steph and Niall had their own plans and had pretty much left them t their own devices, which suited him just fine.

 

Surfing!

**

 

“Oh come on, Niall's left us the car. It's look 'only a short drive along the coast'. We'd be there and back in time for tea.”

“I hate the water.”

“No you don't.”

“Okay but I don't want to make a tit of myself on a surfboard.”

“Okay, watch me make a tit of myself then.”

John Paul seemed to like that idea. “Bet you've done it before though haven't you?”

“When would I have had a chance to surf, John Paul? Oh come on, it'll be fun.”

“You're still not quite here yet. For a start you really do need to let me know how this is in any way fun.” He pointed to a picture of a tanned blonde on a surf board, a huge wave bearing down on him.

“Look at that sea.”

“Yeah, I'm looking.”

“Doesn't it just make you wanna jump in, feel it all over you, hear the roar of the waves?”

“Can't say that it does , no.”

Craig studied him, then sighed. “Okay, what do you wanna do instead?” He sat at the table , back to him, idly touching random keys on the keyboard.

John Paul was silent for a minute, staring at his back, he could tell. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... “But you're driving – there and back! Oh go away. If I hurt anything, any part of me, get even so much as a tiny bruise you'll pay.”

Craig gave him a noisy kiss right on the mouth and ran to get his trunks.

 

 

**

 

They ended up taking the 3 day course and surfed every day except the final Friday. John Paul hadn't been as proficient as Craig, but he was good enough and loved it just as much. God he could just see them in a few years time; aging surfers, having it off on the beach, scaring old and young alike.

 

He was going to love living down here, he just knew it.

It had long since become a matter of how soon rather than if or when. The more they'd seen the more they'd just known that this was where they were meant to be.

 

They'd even seen a few likely properties and yeah the asking prices were steep but not beyond them by any means, especially once he had this final deal sorted. They'd be fully settled in by this time next year. He was sure of that.

 

He looked at his lover; sun, sea and sex – with John Paul.

 

What a fucking life...

 

**

 

 

Craig and John Paul shared driving duties while Nial and Steph relaxed in the back.

Home again they waved them off before sighing and going inside their small but luxurious home.

The stood arms around each other and surveyed their property. They'd lived in this house for 4 years and had expected to see out the decade here, but no not to be. Already they were subconsciously saying goodbye.

They'd had many phases in their lives and all of them had been shared. It would always be that way – joined at the hip Myra often accused, and yeah that was a pretty accurate summation.

 

“So...”

“Happy?”

“Over the moon.”

“It's funny but you've always had this thing about Cornwall haven't you? Like you somehow knew you'd end up there.” John Paul was stroking the hair away from his forehead in a gesture he knew was shorthand for 'I am crazy about you'.

He wrapped both arms around John Paul's waist, leaned into him, got the kiss he hadn't asked for but had certainly wanted. “Since I've been with you my life, it's like it's been running on this track – inevitable, fated, dunno. I think we're just meant to grow old together – happy, sun tanned, swimming in blue seas every day...” He sighed, rested his head against John Paul's. “Don't you feel that too?”

“You know I do. It's always been you, Craig - always will be. Hovel in Dublin, picturesque cottage in Cornwall – doesn't matter where so long as it's you and me.”

“Always will be.”

“I know.”

They stood in silence, no longer concerned with the old house, the old life.

Their future beckoned and they were walking inexorably toward it; no need to rush, no need to hurry – it was there waiting, the way it always had been since the day they'd met in that school common room 11 years before.

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.cornwall-online.co.uk/1-navigationframes/Frame-attractions.html

 

 


End file.
